Rocket's Red Glare
by Kalistrata
Summary: A Fourth of July oneshot for you all. Lisbon orders Jane to attend the CBI 4th of July BBQ. Lisbon and Jane are drinking and Rigsby's doing fireworks! Might be a little Jisbon in here...Rated T for some language and some vague adult situations.


A/N: So I've been absolutely struggling to come up with some Mentalist fanfiction for you all, because you've been a great community to write for, and yesterday it hit me! I'm going to start writing holiday pieces, for whatever holidays I feel like. The Fourth of July, one of _my_ favorites, rarely gets any good fanfiction, so here is one for you. I'm currently fighting a longer story, but I haven't a clue when it'll be out, though I've got another one-shot on deck that I think I'll have out this week.

I actually got this idea while driving down the road yesterday. I live in Missouri and it just _smelled_ like the Fourth of July...the corn...the summer night air...it was great. And of course, fireworks. We all have a little of Rigsby in us, don't we?

Also, if you'd like to follow me on twitter, I'll be updating all of my writing on there. It may not be regular, but anytime I update chapters, stories, etc., or just whatever I'm working on, it'll be on there. My name over at Twitter is KalisWrites and there is a link in my profile.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

* * *

**Rocket's Red Glare**

"Four hundred dollars? Come on, Rigsby," Agent Kimball Cho said, his voice carrying an edge of disbelief. "What are you going to do with them?"

Wayne Rigsby gave him a level look. "I'm going to shoot them off at the office Fourth of July party, idiot. What did you think I was going to do with them?"

Cho narrowed his eyes slightly. "It's hard telling with you."

With a dramatic sigh, Grace Van Pelt slammed her forearms down on her keyboard, eliciting a beep of protest from her computer. "Can you guys argue about this later? I can't concentrate with you two arguing like an old married couple. We're supposed to be _working_."

Both Rigsby and Cho fell silent, but exchanged a disgruntled glance.

"So, Jane, are you coming to the Fourth of July barbecue tomorrow?" Rigsby asked neutrally with a side-glance at Van Pelt. Her brow was furrowed as she typed furiously, but she seemed to be ignoring him.

"Hrmmph?" The sound came from the ratty couch in the corner where Patrick Jane was sprawled. "Barbacue?" he asked sleepily.

The big man gave himself a push on his rolling office chair until he was near the couch. He leaned down close to Jane's face, while Jane recoiled slightly in surprise at having another man's face so close. "Yeah. You know, food, fireworks, beer? Everything that makes the Fourth of July worthwhile? You gotta come. I bought some absolutely badass fireworks."

"I don't like fireworks—" Jane asserted, stretching.

"Lisbon loves fireworks," Cho interjected blandly. "She comes every year."

"—but I do like beer." The last was added hastily. He avoided looking at Cho. "I suppose I'll come."

"Great!" Rigsby's exclamation was accompanied by a slap on the shoulder. "This is going to be great! The _team_ shooting off fireworks _together_!" Rigsby jumped up and grabbed a paper to take into Lisbon, probably to give him an excuse to talk to her about his fireworks.

"He just squealed like a ten-year-old girl," Cho muttered when he was out of earshot.

Jane yawned and sat up with a wince. "That ten-year-old girl nearly dislocated my shoulder. Will the fire department be at the picnic?"

Cho frowned, puzzled. "Fire dep—oh. Ha. Yeah, we might need it if Rigsby's setting off fireworks."

"Or the bomb squad," Van Pelt added viciously, her eyes still on her computer screen. Apparently she wasn't happy about her boyfriend's spending choices. "When Hudson—you know Hudson, from the bomb squad—heard that Rigsby had that many fireworks, he changed his plans. He and his wife are going to Las Vegas instead. Says he wants a vacation when he's on vacation."

"Is Rigsby really so bad with fireworks?" Jane asked. Both Cho and Van Pelt turned to look at him.

"I've only heard the stories…" Van Pelt began, pushing back a strand of red hair.

"Last year," Cho told him in a very satisfied tone, as if this story said everything that needed to be said about Wayne Rigsby and fireworks. "Rigsby lost his eyebrows."

"And his shirt," Van Pelt added with relish.

* * *

Patrick Jane was waiting outside his Teresa Lisbon's office as she got ready to leave. The other three were long gone. As usual, Lisbon worked late, and it had been the norm lately for him to have a delightfully long nap in the afternoon, waking up just before Lisbon decided to leave.

Things had been quiet since their last interaction with Red John. It had been hard for him, though he would have thought it would be harder. He thought that dealing with Red John would tear open old wounds, but there had been less pain, less heartache, than he thought there would be. He still wasn't sure what to think about that.

Teresa Lisbon's words echoed in his mind often. It had taken him a few days to interpret the ramifications of what she said. He'd had to wade through his self-pity, his self-loathing, his ego, to finally understand why she'd been so angry with him.

It wasn't so much that _people_ cared about him, but that _she_ cared about him. Her thoughts, her feelings, disguised in _people_. That hit him harder than he would have suspected.

His pride, his ego, often got in the way of him demonstrating thanks. He knew that, in a semi-subconscious, don't-think-about-it way. So he found himself doing things to show her that he appreciated her. He often walked her to her car. He discovered that he compromised more with her, that he considered her potential reactions to his antics more than he used to. That didn't always stop him, but occasionally it became the deciding factor.

Patrick Jane, for all the analyzing he did of others, didn't like to objectively consider his own feelings and actions. But he couldn't help himself, and even if it took him time, he had finally gotten what Teresa Lisbon was telling him.

She gave him a quick smile as she came out of her office. "Hey Jane," she greeted. "I hear from Rigsby that you're coming to the barbecue."

He threw his jacket over his right shoulder as they strolled towards the elevator. "I'm thinking about it," he said noncommittally

Lisbon shot him an amused glance. Her green eyes sparkled with her tightly contained excitement. "You will," she said confidently. "It's an order. And Rigsby had the best fireworks last year, even if he set himself on fire twice."

"I'm thinking that witnessing Rigbsy on fire is probably more entertaining than his fireworks," Jane asserted, a twinkle in his eye as he grinned at her. He found his smile widening as she returned the grin.

"At any rate, there's nothing better than a CBI Fourth of July," she told him as the doors opened at the ground floor. "And you aren't allowed to wear a suit. You have to wear jeans. Or shorts."

Jane gave an undignified snort. "Who says?"

Lisbon narrowed her eyes. "I do. No suit. It's the _Fourth_, Jane. Independence Day. Nobody wears three-piece suit on the Fourth of July."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"But I like my suit."

"No, you don't."

Jane gave a mock sigh of annoyance. "You are a very stubborn woman, but you can't win an argument by simply telling me 'no'."

"Yes, I can," she declared, pushing the front door open. She glanced at him and—to his surprise—giggled. He found himself laughing with her.

"Damn, I love the Fourth of July," she said, sniffing the air. "It even _smells_ like it."

"That's just smog, Lisbon," Jane deadpanned.

Lisbon rolled her eyes at him, raking a hand back through her dark hair. "Quit trying to ruin my mood, Jane," she said playfully. "It won't work. You can't ruin my mood on the Fourth."

"It's the third."

She fixed him with a glare and he smiled innocently. "Besides, you don't even know what Fourth of July smells like until you've driven down Midwest highways at night with your windows down and can smell the corn that grows along every major road—and most minor ones. That's what the Fourth smells like."

"Corn smells?" she asked dubiously, and her car beeped as she unlocked it. Jane's car was parked right next to hers, but he used his key to open it.

He gave her a broad smile without answering her question. "Good night, Lisbon. See you tomorrow."

* * *

Teresa Lisbon let the hum of the crowd wash over her, reenergize her. Ever since she could remember, she'd loved the Fourth of July. She loved summer, and the Fourth of July was the embodiment of summer, in her opinion. She loved her country and the traditions that had grown around their Independence Day.

"Boss!" a voice called. Rigsby. He was waving excitedly. Van Pelt was nearby, setting up chairs, a smile on her face.

"Hey Wayne, Grace," she greeted. Lisbon hefted the two packs of beer she'd brought along. "You brought a cooler, right?"

"I'll take them, Boss," Van Pelt said, taking them from her. Lisbon had tried before to get the other two to call her by her name—by her last name, at the very least, but it was hopeless. Cho could manage 'Lisbon', sometimes. Jane would call her whatever he wanted, usually 'Lisbon' or 'woman'.

She was glad he was coming today, Lisbon reflected as she nabbed a beer from Van Pelt before the other woman put them in the cooler. She twisted the cap off and collapsed in a lawn chair. He needed events like this, time spent outside work and brooding.

Lisbon knew he brooded, a lot. Most of his couch time, at least that not spent sleeping, was brooding.

He'd changed though, since that night. Even though Jane didn't seem to understand why he did it, killing a man to save her life, at the expense of finding Red John—it was the first sign of that change. Jane had only taken it further since then.

With a thumbnail, she idly picked at the label on her beer as other CBI employees set up around her. Rigsby was anxiously going through his fireworks, examining each proudly and carefully organizing them within the several boxes he'd brought. Other agents eyed him—and his fireworks—warily.

She wasn't really sure what she thought about Jane. The things she'd said at that farm had just come out. She'd been so worried for him, so afraid that he would be hurt, that it had all spilled out before she'd thought. She'd been so angry that he would just throw his life away to catch Red John, as if he had nothing left to offer the world. Nothing to offer her.

It struck her suddenly, and she nearly knocked over her beer as she jumped at the thought.

_I love Patrick Jane_.

"Hi, Lisbon," a voice said quietly by her ear.

Her beer went flying as she leapt out of her folding chair. The chair itself snapped shut as she spun.

Patrick Jane had a wide grin on his face at her reaction, thumbs in his pockets. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. The look surprised her, but it oddly fit him.

"You owe me a beer, jackass," she said mock irritably, grabbing her chair and pushing it open. She tried to bury the thought she'd just had far back in her mind. She didn't know where the hell it had come from, but her synapses were obviously misfiring. Patrick Jane's smile tended to do that to her.

Jane nabbed a couple of beers from the cooler and popped one open for her. "I won't sneak up on you again, I promise."

"Hmph," she muttered, accepting her drink and sitting back down.

"I almost didn't recognize you," Jane teased as pulled a chair over by hers. She was wearing khaki shorts and a black tank top adorned with an American flag.

"Like you should talk," she retorted, amused.

"Attention! Can I have your attention!" a voice bellowed. Lisbon's eyes found Minelli. He was waving barbeque tongs and wore an apron. "Food's ready, so come get it!"

Someone made a comment that she couldn't quite hear, but Minelli scowled and snapped his tongs in their direction. "This apron is what makes your brats taste so good, Faust. Now shut your mouth and come get some food."

"You've got to try one of Minelli's bratwurst," Lisbon told Jane, securing her drink in the holder on her chair and standing. "They're the best I've ever had, by far."

"I'm not hungry—" he began, but Lisbon grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of his chair.

"You are _not_ missing out on Minelli's bratwurst," she said forcefully as she dragged him towards the tables filled with food. "Cho, tell him." Cho was coming up beside them to get in line as well.

Cho gave them each a wary look. "What?"

"The bratwursts. He doesn't want to eat."

"Minelli's bratwursts are the best bratwursts you will ever eat," Cho said blandly. "Rigsby ate eleven last year."

"Was that before or after he set himself on fire?" Jane asked, amusement in his eyes. He couldn't get over the assertive, playful, and almost childlike excitement that Lisbon had this evening. Usually she was guarded and quiet, though never lacking confidence in her job. He really enjoyed this side of his boss.

Lisbon grinned. "Both."

"And Lisbon was right behind him with nine, but she wimped out at the end. Lost me some money."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You bet on me?"

Cho shrugged. "It was long odds. I could have made a fortune and quit my job on those odds."

Rigsby and Van Pelt joined them in line and the five of them joked with each other, poking fun at Minelli as they loaded up their plates. Despite his protests, Jane packed his plate near to overflowing, complete with two heavily mustarded bratwursts.

"I thought you weren't hungry," Lisbon said with amusement when she saw his plate.

"Oh, I'm not," Jane said airily. "I got it for Rigsby so he doesn't have to get back in line."

Lisbon favored him with a quiet laugh as they headed back to their chairs. Cho and Rigsby pulled their chairs out in a circle, and it was quiet as the five of them dug into their bratwursts.

"Wow," Jane said on his first bite, wiping his chin. "These are amazing. I wouldn't have pegged Minelli for a barbecue sheik."

Lisbon stabbed a potato with her plastic fork and gave him a superior look. "I told you so."

* * *

"This one is going to get him," Lisbon said conspiratorially, leaning towards Jane, her eyes on the self-proclaimed firework kingpin. Rigsby was doing the starter fireworks as a pre-show. He was currently setting off the ones that spun violently and sent out huge showers of sparks. He'd already had one close call when he didn't get back far enough.

Both she and Jane had had a few beers, and she felt herself loosening up. That combined with her good Fourth of July mood made her talkative and playful, and she didn't particularly care who thought it odd.

Rigsby leapt back as the firework started to spin towards him. It whizzed off the board they were using and into the grass, hopping up toward him again. Rigsby yelped and backpedaled, but it continued to chase him. Van Pelt stood off to the side watching him, hiding a smile.

Lisbon laughed, a full belly laugh, at Rigsby trying to escape the errant firework. Jane found her laugh contagious, intoxicating, and he laughed with her.

Cho had left them earlier, and according to Lisbon, he was dating someone from Organized Crime. Jane still hadn't spotted them together, despite craning his neck every time he saw someone with black hair.

The preliminary fireworks were finished, Rigsby announcing that once it was full dark he would begin his real fireworks.

Lisbon slapped Jane with the back of her hand, pointing as Rigsby and Van Pelt sidled out of the crowd. "I bet they're going to make out," she whispered loudly. She grinned and pulled Rigsby's box of smaller fireworks to her feet. "I have a great idea!"

She dug through the box, coming up with three 100-packs of Black Cats and a lighter. "Come on, Jane!"

"You're not _seriously_…" he began a little hesitantly.

Lisbon fixed him with a look. "They're at a work event," she said a little haughtily, but he could tell she was joking. "I'm just doing my duty as their boss."

He got to his feet with a sigh. He wasn't sure he could handle Lisbon on any more Independence Days.

As they maneuvered through the crowd, her excitement began to affect him, and by the time they caught sight of Rigsby and Van Pelt again, both were grinning like fools. The two ducked behind a nearby tree, about twenty feet from the younger two.

They were leaning against his car, Rigsby's back to Jane and Lisbon. The two lovers were pressed together, heavily involved in a deep kiss. Rigsby's hands were under her shirt and they were both eliciting little moans of pleasure.

"Man, they're about two steps from just doing it on the hood," Jane said, shaking his head.

Lisbon grinned at him, though he could barely see her in the dark. "We're about to ruin the mood," she murmured happily.

"Give it just a little more," Jane urged, taking one of the 100-packs from her. "Let's wait till they're really into it."

Lisbon punched him in the shoulder. "You're sick. You just want to watch."

"Do not," he protested quietly, rubbing his shoulder. "You hit like a girl."

She didn't even look at him, her focus on twisting her two 100-packs together. "Thank you."

By now, Rigsby and Van Pelt had given up all pretense. Rigsby pushed her down onto his hood, trailing hot kisses down her neck.

"Let's do this," Lisbon said, flicking on the lighter. "Here, hold these."

Jane held out the fuse to his and she lit it. Once he was sure it was lit, he gave it a toss toward the car. She lit the two she'd connected, and tossed those as well. They peered around the tree, waiting for them to go off as Rigsby fumbled with his zipper while simultaneously pushing Van Pelt's skirt up around her waist.

It took a few moments, and as Rigsby settled between her legs, the fireworks exploded.

Rigsby jumped back off Van Pelt right into the fireworks. A scream went up, and it took Lisbon a few seconds to realize that it was Rigsby. Van Pelt pushed her skirt down and rolled off the hood as Rigsby danced in and out of the fireworks, swiping at his ass as fireworks shot up at him. His bare bottom angled towards Jane and Lisbon, both of whom were holding their sides with silent laughter. Lisbon clutched Jane's shoulder as she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jane took a gulping breath and suddenly Rigsby straightened as the fireworks fizzled out. He pulled his pants up and glared in the direction of the tree.

Lisbon exchanged a panicked look with Jane. "Oh shit," she hissed. "Run!"

Rigsby stomped toward their tree and Lisbon seized Jane's hand, pulling him back toward the party at a sprint.

The two of them raced back through the park, both hoping that Rigsby wasn't behind them. For such a big man, he was incredibly fast. Lisbon laughed at the pure exhilaration, her hand still hanging onto Jane's, and he didn't pull away as their feet pounded into the thick grass. Lisbon's hair streamed behind her like a banner.

Finally, as they reached the party, they slowed, taking deep breaths. Jane put his free hand on his knee as he tried to catch his breath. Lisbon seemed to reluctantly release other hand.

"You're out of shape, old man," she told him, though she was a bit short of breath herself.

"I'm a distance runner," he retorted, straightening. "A very slow distance runner."

They hung out near the dessert table, Lisbon nabbing a piece of Mississippi Mud Cake. Both of them glanced toward the direction they'd come from every so often, waiting for Rigsby and Van Pelt to arrive.

"Here they come," Lisbon said surreptitiously, bowing her head slightly as she pretended to be involved in her cake. Her eyes, however, followed the two of them. Rigsby looked angry, rubbing his sore ass, while Van Pelt seemed more than a little embarrassed. Rigsby scanned the crowd as if the culprit would be made known to him, but he didn't seem to come up with any ideas, and instead gave Van Pelt's hand a squeeze, then stepped over to his fireworks. Jane watched over the cup of lemonade he'd poured.

Lisbon and Jane sauntered back over to their chairs, where Cho already sat, looking extremely satisfied. Rigsby could probably take a few lessons in stealth from Cho. She'd never caught _him _in a compromising situation, and she had no doubt that was where he'd been as well.

Van Pelt dropped into her chair, looking a bit uncomfortable. She smoothed her rumpled skirt idly.

"You alright, Grace?" Lisbon asked innocently. Jane buried his face in his plastic cup to disguise his amusement.

She nodded, her eyes watching Rigsby get set up. "I'm fine. I just don't like fireworks very much."

Lisbon made a noncommittal noise, but didn't stifle her grin. Her eyes sparkled as they met Jane's.

One of the administrative staff, a woman that Lisbon only knew by sight, sang the _Star Spangled Banner_, in a surprisingly beautiful alto voice. They all stood, facing the flag someone had staked off to the side.

As she came to the line "and the rocket's red glare," Rigsby shot a perfectly timed firework up, and it exploded red all over the night sky. Everyone oohed and ahhed.

The woman finished singing amid applause, and fireworks exploded brilliantly above them. Lisbon craned her neck back as Rigsby fired off one after the other. Someone had moved their SUV over to the party and cranked up Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture_. Some stood, some sat, as Lisbon and Jane did, but everyone watched Rigsby's show. Except for one person.

Jane found himself not interested in the fireworks, but in Lisbon's expressions as each firework exploded above them. She wore a permanent smile, watching those fireworks like a kid. It gave him a glimpse into who she was, a woman unafraid to show her pleasure in small things like fireworks. He wondered if this was a piece of her past that she held on to, good times she'd had as a little girl, perhaps some of the few she'd had before harsh realities had intruded on her childhood.

As the fireworks built in magnitude, purple and red and blue and green raining down towards them, Jane was entranced. He studied her profile, her slender neck, her high cheekbones, her wide smile.

Finally, the last firework fell silent and the CBI employees clapped, with a few hoots and hollers. Rigsby, his mood lightened by dealing with explosives, bowed. Jane ripped his eyes away from Lisbon and clapped as well. He was only a little disappointed that Rigsby hadn't lit himself on fire tonight.

The party began to break up, and Lisbon stood, stretching with a groan. "This has been a great Fourth," she said contentedly. "Those were beautiful fireworks, Wayne," she told him as he approached.

"Thanks, Boss. It's my goal to have bigger and better fireworks every year. I love the Fourth of July."

"No, you love blowing things up," Cho said, folding up chairs.

Rigsby seemed to think for a moment, then ceded that point. "Yeah. I do."

"You want to take this beer home, Boss?" Grace asked. "I don't think we'll drink it."

"Yeah, I'll take it." Lisbon knelt to pull out the few that remained.

"Just take the cooler," Rigsby told her. "I can get it back from you on Monday."

She nodded and Van Pelt and Rigsby gathered up the chairs, following the rest of the crowd toward the cars. Cho was right behind them, leaving Lisbon and Jane among the few who straggled behind.

"I'll get the cooler for you," Jane said, hefting it easily. "Where are you parked?"

She gave him a thankful smile. "Up there," she pointed towards another parking lot atop a rise, away from the rest of the cars. "I have a secret tradition that I do every year. If you want, I'll show you."

He smiled at her. "I'd love to, Lisbon."

They climbed the rise, Jane slipping on the wet grass in his slick-bottomed shoes. Lisbon giggled at him and took his arm, supporting him as they climbed toward her car.

"Such silly shoes," she playfully chastised him. "My sandals have more tread than that."

"I'll have you know that I've been told these are very sexy shoes," he informed her.

Lisbon gave an amused snort as she unlocked her car. "By who?"

"The girl at the shoe store?"

"Now that," Lisbon said, taking the cooler from him. "is your problem."

She brought out several small boxes and gave him one, as well as a lighter. To his great surprise, she lowered herself down onto her stomach on the pavement, propping herself up on her forearms.

"When I was a kid," she began softly, placing one of the contents of the package on the ground. "These were always the first fireworks my dad would let us light." Jane lowered himself down next to her. "My mom didn't like fireworks, but she loved these." The small capsule slowly began to extend and curl, like a worm. "She thought they were cute, these little worms, and she and I would always get out on the driveway, just like this, and light them."

They lapsed into silence as they lit several of the little worms. One of hers started growing over on one of his and she giggled. "Mine's gonna take yours out."

"Nuh-uh. Mine's is tougher than--"

"Ha!" she crowed as his disintegrated at the advance of hers. "Nothing can stop my army of worms!"

The wind, after hearing Lisbon's declaration, picked up and the little black ash worms drifted away on the breeze. Instead of being disappointed, she smiled. "And there they go."

Jane flipped over on his back, clasping his hands over his stomach. "You can see the stars a little better here," he noted.

She settled in next to him. He noticed that their arms were touching, but neither of them moved. "Yeah, you can see them really well out here."

Jane barked a laugh. "You haven't seen the stars if this is the best you've seen them. When I was a kid, we'd just walk outside the house and look up, and you could see ten times more stars than this. Midwest's got the best stars in the world."

Lisbon had to chuckle at his statement. "Carnie folk," she teased.

They lay there for a while, just studying the stars, enjoying the warm weather. The pavement still held heat from the day, a contrast to the cooler air.

Finally, with a sigh, Lisbon got up, and extended a hand to help Jane up. "We better get out of here," she said as she dropped her hand.

Jane didn't release it as they stood only a few inches apart. He expected her to tense, for her guard to go up, but it didn't. Interesting.

"I had a great time tonight, Lisbon," he told her softly. "I'm glad you ordered me to come."

She laughed throatily. "I'm glad you came, Jane. It was fun to share my fireworks with someone."

"Teresa—"

Lisbon put a finger to his lips and her other hand tightened on his. "Shush, Jane," she whispered, and replaced her finger with her lips.

Her lips were soft against his, a little hesitant, questioning. He felt himself responding in kind, removing her hesitation.

Jane released her hand and circled his arms around her small frame as she became more insistent. Her hands snaked around his neck, burying her hands in his curls.

Finally, they broke the kiss, her hands still entwined around his neck, his crushing her body against his.

"Well," Jane began, but he didn't know what else to say. "Well…"

"Have I rendered the great Patrick Jane speechless?" Lisbon asked slyly, then softly kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Never," he murmured, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the soft skin. "Although I have to say that you coming on to me would have been on my list of things that would never, ever happen, had I made a list previous to this moment."

"I just kissed you," she protested. "That's not coming on to you."

"Mmmhmm." Jane grinned at her. Her green eyes were nearly glowing as she returned his smile. He lowered his head, his lips gently taking hers. His hands found their way under her shirt, massaging the small of her back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. She allowed it, her hands tightening in his hair, responding to his needy kiss.

"This has been the best Fourth of July ever," Lisbon murmured happily when they finally broke for air. She rested her head on his chest, her arms around his middle. He held her close as they stood in the darkness above the park.

"I'm glad your people care about me, Teresa," he whispered playfully into her hair, but he squeezed her closer, letting her know that it truly meant a lot to him.

She laughed, a low, intimate laugh. "It took a while to convince them that they did. I have stubborn people."

They were silent a moment, and then she suddenly raised her head, her eyes locked on his. "We _will_ catch him, Patrick," she said softly, steel in her eyes.

He kissed her forehead. "I know. There's no one else I trust so much to do it as you."

"Not even you?" she asked, amusement in her eyes.

He shook his head with a grin. "Not even me."

In the distance, the city fireworks were in full swing, coloring the sky, low rumbles traveling the distance. Lisbon sighed and turned her head to watch, happy that she was able to share them with someone as special to her as Patrick Jane. Not even Rigsby and all his fireworks would be able to top tonight's pyrotechnics--at least, not those yet to come.


End file.
